VOICES FROM THE FIRE: Rick Christiansen

Tinder Anachronism

I imagine Herman Hesse and Anaïs Nin

Both swiping right

They would meet in a small Paris coffee bar

Anaïs would flick the whip cream from her cup

Using just the tip of her tongue as punctuation

Herman would watch her carefully

And finger the Nobel he wears as a cravat

Clearing his throat nervously

He would talk quietly about the First Great War

By the second cup

they would be dishing on Henry Miller

But not about June

And saying that to be an artist requires

An income

or resourcefulness

or both

Herman would remark upon her narrow calf skin boots

And tell her

that they look very smart and smooth

Anaïs would tilt her head and smile

Thinking of other older men she has tasted

And with her eyes she would swipe right again

And Herman would see the glance

And nod

And pay the check

As he tells her about the balcony

And the cat

In the apartment he has borrowed

Just around the corner

Forever Home

Poetic desire

I was so excited!

They looked at me/

For quite awhile

Considering…

My happiness

in their home

And if I would fit/

Comfortably/

In the space they have prepared

My rhyme scheme/

Does not shed/

I am easy to quatrain!

So I put

my dimeter/

On the glass

And stutter/

stepped with my—

Best enjambing/

Flarf wag

But they pull/

Away?

I slink/

Back to—

my folder

For another/

Day—of submissions/

In search of/

My forever home

Dumpster fire in Paradise

I imagine Lawrence Ferlinghetti 

and Mark Rothko meeting

As they dumpster dive 

together in the ether

Each drawn there 

by the same smell of rancid chicken

But for very different reasons

Mark could help Larry 

up and into the container

Age before beauty after all

They would both smirk

And they would get their hands dirty

Because that is what you do when you make something worthwhile

It is never too late to create something that people are NOT ready to see.

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